Chaining Intentions
by Selene's Phantom
Summary: As accusations fly back and forth and distrust festers the truth remains buried in a sea of deceit meant to obscure and mislead. When the story unravels during a case, Peter must face the facts and accept it or Neal might vanish in the chaos unleashed.


_**Chaining Intentions**_

_Selene's Phantom_

**Summary:** As accusations fly back and forth and distrust festers the truth remains buried in a sea of deceit meant to obscure and mislead. When the story unravels during a case, Peter must face the facts and accept or else Neal might just disappear in the chaos unleashed.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! I am merely playing with other people's toys, using them in my own twisted games. Anything you recognize most probably belongs to somebody else, except the plots, those are mine.

**Dialogue Key:**

"Blah…" – Talking in English

_Blah…_ - Thoughts, emphasis, writing/e-mails, and flashbacks/dreams

**Additional Notes:** The story will follow parts of the TV shows for both but will deviate at certain points in both series.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: <strong>

_Chance_

_It was a simple rule,_ Neal reminded himself, _one that was put in place for a _very _good reason,_ he added on as he looked at himself through the broken piece of mirror.

Ice blue eyes, a shade darker with desperate anticipation, peered out of a face that was otherwise hidden behind hair. He fingered a strand of his straggly brown beard as he contemplated his next several steps, making sure there were no holes in his plan, and that he had all of his bases covered.

As he made a run-down of his list of Things to Do, the voice of his partner-in-crime filtered through his mind, reminding him of why he did what he did.

_Rules were made to be broken, Neal, _he recited to himself in a silent chant with a self-depreciating smile. The philosophy of criminals everywhere, one he had followed almost religiously for the last nine years. That infamous line had gotten him to where he was today.

Maximum security prison: a place he was finally ready to break out of.

Suppressing the urge to whistle a hearty little tune, Neal removed the children's safety scissors sealed away in his care package and began snipping away the long brown locks that just brushed his shoulders. It took minutes to return his hair to something respectable. Satisfied he moved on to his beard, pulling a miniature razor and a stub of plastic from the kit. It was a matter of seconds to tie the two together with a tiny rubber-band. Only a few minutes more were required to remove what had taken him weeks to grow.

With careful movements the brown beard and mustache that so easily hid his face fell away to reveal Neal Caffrey, ready to once more take the world by storm.

He fingered his clean-shaven face, double-checking that he hadn't missed any part of his beard before he gathered his tools and orange suit and shoved them back in the plastic bag. Taking care to be quiet, he slid it inside the toilet's commode before sealing it shut once more where it would remain out of sight and out of mind.

With step one of his plan (finally!) out of the way, Neal turned to step two. Fingering the navy blue collar of the prison guards uniform jacket, he frowned. The material was rough and heavy; it was obvious before he even slipped it on that it would be itchy and uncomfortable. Pushing aside his distaste, he pulled the jacket on over his undershirt making sure to leave it untucked from the waistband of his duty pants.

Outfit finally settled he brushed his hair back using a little trickle of water to make it stick before he deemed himself ready.

Taking a deep breath, Neal pushed the door of the restroom open and in that moment everything changed. His posture shifted enough that he seemed to exude confidence; his steps were carefully measured so that he wasn't dragging his feet along or zipping passed the guards. Everything about him said he was supposed to be there, that absolutely nothing was wrong.

It was more than enough to fool the guards.

* * *

><p>"Is the tip in play yet?"<p>

It was one of many questions floating through the office as those in the room watched the video feed playing against the screen.

"Not much longer. Two minutes, tops."

Nothing else needed to be said, they had done their duty. Word had gotten out –through legitimate sources- it wasn't their fault if it came too late for them to respond.

"Keep on the situation; let me know how things play out."

There was a slight rustle as headphones were raised to cover ears once more before the familiar clatter of keys filled the room, "You got it."

With a near imperceptible sigh Joan Campbell left the tech ops office and Auggie Anderson behind to return to her own desk. As soon as her door closed she turned her furrowed gaze to a single unmarked blue file sitting on her desk. With a practiced flick of her hand it opened and she skimmed over the information within before making a few notes and closing it once more.

Dropping the pen on top of the file she leaned back in the chair and glanced out the window to look out over her division of the CIA with veiled exhaustion, her hand still resting on the file.

"And so, it begins…"

* * *

><p>The tension in the room was almost palpable, not surprising considering the number of people packed together expelling that nervous energy.<p>

Special Agent Peter Burke grimaced as he listened to the safecracker work the dial that protected a piece of crucial evidence in his most recent case.

Hand over his mouth; he watched the computer screen as the expert continued turning it before a just audible click was heard over the line.

"Dropped three."

Peter released an anxious sigh as they crossed the first obstacle and came that much closer to catching the Dutchman. Still, he frowned as he glanced to the open doorway in front of him, he couldn't help but feel like he was overlooking something important.

"Dropped two."

Two down and only one more to go.

* * *

><p>Sparks flew as wire met wire before the engine rumbled to life. Neal grinned as he tied the pair off and set them to the side. It was a relief to see that he wasn't as rusty as he had feared. He was only a few seconds behind on his record and for the moment, that was acceptable.<p>

Sliding back into the chair he fastened his attention onto the closed ashtray and glove box and began sifting through both before he stumbled across a small stash of money, it wasn't a lot but he could work with it. Everything finally in place he shoved a cassette tape into the radio, and nudged the truck forward and away from his "home" for the past three and a half years.

The rush of adrenaline he felt as he escaped with no one the wiser was a familiar companion and Neal welcomed it warmly. With a quiet, exhilarated, laugh he cleared the gates and moved on to the next phase of his plan.

The bright yellow rain jacket he bought was an eyesore but one he was willing to put up with for the moment. It took him a while but he finally found a suitable mark. With a quick look down both sides of the street he rushed across to the wealthy looking couple and offered, with a charming grin, to take their car.

The couple large bills dropped into his hand by the older gentlemen made the job that much sweeter. With a small nod and cheerful farewell, Neal drove off in his newest acquisition, never once looking back.

* * *

><p>The phone buzzed three times before Joan reached it and pressed the speaker button. "Yes, Auggie?"<p>

"He's out and on the move."

Joan sagged further into her chair and rested her chin on the palm of her hand, and stared at the folder in contemplation. "What's his status?"

"He's on the Brooklyn Bridge at the moment, keeping a fair pace with the rest of the traffic but making sure to stay under the radar of the cops."

Her shoulders twitched slightly and a small smirk was beginning to form on her lips, "Thank you, Auggie; Keep an eye on him for a little longer, I want to know his every move."

The former Special Forces operative chuckled at the order but didn't voice his thoughts, "I'm on it." The line clicked as it was disconnected, leaving Joan alone once more. She allowed herself a brief moment to relax her mask so that she could truly revel in the situation at hand.

It wouldn't be long now before they were back in the game.

* * *

><p>"Dropped Four."<p>

Peter froze, that inkling once more tugging at the back of his mind, a lot more insistent than before.

"Three, two, four… Three, two, four…" He muttered to himself, running it through a couple of times trying to figure out why it bothered him, "Three, two, four…" All at once it came to him and his eyes widened. In a rush he turned to the open doorway and shouted, just as the safecracker moved to open the box, "Wait!"

Too late!

A plume of smoke exploded from the room and descended on the number of agents standing there, swallowing them whole in the dense smog.

Swiping his hand in front of his face in a vain attempt to clear the air a little, Peter rushed into the safe-room and grabbed hold of the cracker before shoving him out in front of him, "Are you alright?" He bit out in a cough, holding the man steady until he seemed to find his own two feet.

"Yeah, thanks…" With an appreciative nod he stumbled away to find a chair that he could collapse in.

Peter took a moment to regain some composure before he turned to his underlings with hands on his hips and a heavy frown in place.

"Agent Burke, how'd you know it was going to do that?" Clinton Jones asked, still trying to clear his lungs of the Dutchman's thick smog.

Brushing at his shoulders, Peter instructed everyone to pull out their phones. "What's 3-2-4 spell?"

The looks of disgust and irritation that started to appear on everyone's faces were more than enough to tell Peter they finally got it.

Huffing angrily, Peter resumed his vain attempt to brush the dirt off his suit, until he came across a thin strand of ruby red among the rest of the brown. "Somebody want to tell me what this is?" Looking up he watched as everybody remained silent. "Anybody?"

No response.

"Great, look at you…" Peering back and forth, he stared each one down as he asked his next sardonic question. "How many of you went to Harvard?"

Looking at his agents he wanted to groan when he saw several of them raise their hands, as if they were still in school!

Deciding to ignore them for the moment until he could get a better hold of his temper he turned his attention to the lady pushing her way through the other agents and towards him, a solemn look on her face.

"Ah, Diana, look at this… Apparently our boy has a sense of humor."

Instead of trying to help clear things up and maybe set them on the right track again, Diana released a sigh and fixed Peter with a heavy stare.

"What?"

"Neal Caffrey has escaped…"

* * *

><p>Now let the games begin!<p>

I know there was much more to the first episode of White Collar than I'm covering in here but the chapter started getting really long and I couldn't find another suitable stopping point later in what I had typed. If you have any questions or comments leave a review or shoot me a PM. Any constructive criticism would be much appreciated.

One last thing to note, there's a poll on my profile that lets you decide in what order a story gets updated. The one with the most votes after two weeks will be the first updated, three to five days later the runner up will be updated and so on…

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

Until next time,

_Selene's Phantom_

_Next Chapter:_

**Chapter 2:** _Bet On It_


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